


Body And Soul

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-19
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: 'Insidious, the alien slipped into his brain, separating conscious thought from autonomic systems; suggesting possibilities, laying out temptation, selecting seduction. Enterprise's tactical officer resisted, Malcolm Reed surrendered.' Postep, 2.18 "The Crossing." (04/25/2003)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to Erin and sweet_subbie for beta reading, without them Trip would sound a lot more English!  


* * *

When Lieutenant Malcolm Reed saw the wisp approaching him in the armoury, his first instinct was to get away from it. Never mind that Commander Tucker claimed they should all try the out-of-body experience the aliens offered. Reed liked control; the idea of relinquishing control of his body to an alien entity was abhorrent to him. Who knew what the alien would do? That Tucker had enjoyed the experience was no recommendation, not to Reed at any rate.

So when the lieutenant saw the wisp, he ran. In a controlled way; determined to escape its clutches. Ever the armoury officer, his first line of defence was a phase pistol. When that proved ineffective he retreated; out of the armoury and along the corridor, hoping to get enough distance between him and his pursuer to comm for assistance. Though God only knew what assistance anyone could provide against these creatures.

Left foot down, he was himself; right foot down, and the alien was inside him. A battle of wills ensued—outcome, foregone conclusion, though Reed denied that as long as possible, nanoseconds at least.

Insidious, the alien slipped into his brain, separating conscious thought from autonomic systems; suggesting possibilities, laying out temptation, selecting seduction. Enterprise's tactical officer resisted; Malcolm Reed surrendered.

* * *

Sensation. Up, down, warmth, balance. Control. Control—of a physical body—was strange, alien. He took a step, turned his head, looked around. Muscles moved, tendons stretched and relaxed, eyes focused, the body moved through space. He was in control. Allowing himself a-smile, the word was smile, he realised. Allowing himself a smile, he continued the body's progress along the corridor, but at a more leisurely pace, savouring the sensation.

He. He searched what was left of his host's mind; the basic, primitive essence that remained. He was male. He sensed his maleness—identified it—identified with it. He was male. Which meant that somewhere there was—female.

A person passed him. Difference. Shape, form, smell. This was female. He felt his body react. Warmth? Desire? Fleetingly he registered the objections raised by the remnants of his host's mind. Registered, and ignored.

Another female entered his field of vision. A door opened and she passed through it. He ran, stuck out his hand, and held the door, slid into the turbolift.

She spoke. 'I'm going to B deck.'

He tried his voice. 'B deck is fine.' She didn't react. He studied her body, cataloguing the visible differences. 'Are you a female?'

'Sir?'

'Your gender. You are a female, correct?'

'Last time I checked.'

'I am a male.'

'I'm aware of that Lieutenant.'

'There seem to be a number of-anatomical differences.'

'Sir!'

The lift slowed to a halt and the female stepped out, walking away without a backward glance. She had called him, Lieutenant. Alone in the lift, he sifted the fragments of his host's memory. Reed, he thought, I am Lieutenant Reed.

There was a female on this ship whom Reed admired. Extending his arm, he pressed the button for the required destination.

* * *

Malcolm felt the alien's invasion like a physical assault. He tensed his body, only to find that it was no longer his. He fought the wisp in his mind, battling against the offered pleasures. Anything you desire, the presence promised. Anything. His defences fell, his innermost desire slipped its restraints, and there before him was...A dream? An illusion? His heart's desire?

Commander Tucker. Trip. He stood in the corridor outside the open door to Malcolm's quarters, dressed in only his blue Starfleet underwear. Malcolm stood inside the doorway, fully clothed.

'Commander?'

'Malcolm,' the vision of his dreams said, 'I'm sorry, but I can't hide the way I feel any more. I know you may not feel the same way, but I've gotta let you know, I love ya.' The Trip vision reached out hesitantly.

This isn't real. This isn't Trip.

Even before the thoughts were formed, it was too late. The alien had offered and Malcolm had accepted. A temptation beyond his power to resist. Trip. His Trip. Trip—his. Malcolm's conscience rebelled, but his heart won.

'Commander. Trip.' He reached out, took the vision's hand and pulled it forward. The door to Malcolm's quarters slid shut. Trip's hands settled on Malcolm's shoulders, pulled him close. Their lips met; the lieutenant, the armoury officer, the head of security, was lost.

* * *

'Humans don't like doing things without their consent! When are you planning to return Malcolm Reed?'

The visit to the female had not gone well. She had proved uncooperative and had called for assistance. Now Enterprise's captain stood close to Reed, their bodies almost touching, waiting for an answer.

'That depends.'

He was very conscious of the other man's proximity, his heat, his smell, his maleness. A tendril of the lost identity stirred. Yes, he realised, this is what this body wants. Not female. Yet, not this male. Reed let his eyes rake the captain's body. A pity; he was...interesting.

'Oh does it?' The captain signalled two waiting crewmen. 'Let's see how much you enjoy experiencing the human condition locked in Reed's quarters.'

The crewmen each took hold of one of Reed's arms and escorted him from the room. The one on his left had yellow hair. That was right, but the eyes were not. Later, when they controlled the ship, then he would trace the fugitive memory, find its target. Give this body what it craved.

* * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed sucked in a deep breath. He thought he remembered not being able to breathe, but the memory was fading. He opened his eyes and a bright blue pair stared back at him, only centimetres from his own. 'Trip?' He looked around, confused. He was on the floor. How had he got there? And his uniform; he was wearing his uniform.

'I'm dressed. How? Why am I dressed?'

'It's all right, lieutenant. Just take it easy.'

The voice was not Trip's. He turned again to the blue eyes. 'Doctor, what...?'

Phlox slipped an arm round Reed's shoulders and helped him into a sitting position.

'Where's Trip?' Reed's eyes strayed round the room, came to rest on the bed. 'We were...'

He missed the speculative look the doctor gave him and before either of them could say anything more the door slid open and another voice chimed in.

'Malcolm, there y'are. You okay?' Commander Tucker stood in the doorway.

Fully clothed, Reed noted.

He stared blankly at the commander, confused, and saw a slight frown creased Tucker's brow as he spoke again.

'Is he all right, Doc? Seems kinda out of it there.'

'Yes. He does seem 'out of it', as you so eloquently put it, doesn't he? It appears that Mr. Reed's absence from his body has had a more deleterious effect on him than most people's. Help me get him to his feet, will you. I'd like to take him to sickbay and run a few tests.'

Reed looked from Tucker to the bed and back, then groaning he slumped forward and buried his head in his hands.

* * *

'Well you'll be happy to know, Lieutenant, that I can't find anything wrong with you. You are, as you claim, fine.'

Reed looked up into the Denobulan doctor's smiling face. 'Does that mean I can go?' he asked, pulling himself up into a sitting position and swinging his legs off the biobed, keen to leave sickbay.

'I don't see why not. And yes,' the doctor said, forestalling his next question, 'you can return to duty. But I'd like to see you again tomorrow morning, please. In the meantime, get as much rest as you can.' Phlox paused, and Reed was aware of his close scrutiny. 'If there's anything else...anything you want to talk about...you know where I am.'

'There's nothing,' Reed lied. 'Thank you, Doctor. I'm fine.' He stood, straightening his uniform, and gave the doctor a brief nod, not meeting his eyes. He was just turning to leave when the sickbay doors slid open and Commander Tucker walked in, padd in hand.

'There you go, Doc. Atmospheric readings all back to normal.' He handed the padd to Phlox with a smile and turned to Reed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 'So, Malcolm, how're you feeling now?'

'I'm fine, Commander. Thank you.' The firmness of Tucker's grip, the warmth of his hand through Reed's uniform, felt good. Too good. Not trusting himself, he took a step back, dislodging Tucker's hand. 'If you'll excuse me, I really should get back to work.'

'Yeah, sure. Walk you back to the armoury?'

'Thanks, but I have to call at my quarters first,' Reed said, turning to leave, needing to get away from the Commander's disturbing presence.

'Walk you there, then,' Tucker smiled. 'It's on the way to engineering.'

Reed strode out of sickbay, leaving Tucker to follow in his wake. What is up with the man, he wondered? He's not normally so keen for my company, more's the pity.

'You sure you're okay, Malcolm?' Tucker asked, catching up with him.

Reed glanced Tucker's way. Was that worry in the other man's eyes? Those beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that had darkened in passion as they scanned Reed's naked body. He forced himself to look away, to drag his attention back to the present.

'I'm fine, Commander,' he snapped.

'Don't have to bite my head off, Lieutenant. Seems like you didn't have as good a time being a wisp as the rest of us. I was just worried about you, is all.'

Good, Reed thought. Good doesn't begin to describe it. If only you knew. Thank god you don't!

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I just don't want to talk about it, sir.'

'Fine, suit yourself.'

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Outside the door to his quarters, Reed stopped. As he reached to key in his door code he felt Tucker rest a hand on his shoulder again.

'See you later then,' the engineer said, uncertainly.

Reed nodded, not trusting himself to say anything, not here, not with Tucker standing outside the open door to his quarters, touching him.

He stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind him. Turning, he looked at the door, at the space where the half-naked Tucker of his dreams had stood.

He didn't know why he'd come to his quarters. He should be in the armoury. It was just an excuse. An excuse to avoid walking with Commander Tucker. An excuse that had failed miserably. He should leave, go back on duty.

He bowed his head, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes, trying to shut out the visions, the memories of something that never really happened. Something he wanted, needed, so desperately it felt real. He remembered the feel of Tucker's hand as he pulled him into his quarters; the heat that emanated from Tucker as he put his hands on Reed's shoulders; the taste of Tucker as their lips met.

I sighed as Trip broke off the kiss and pulled away from me slightly.

'You're all right with this? You're not freaked out, or anything?' His voice trembled, worried about what I would say.

I didn't speak immediately, deciding instead to show him my answer. I slipped one hand round his waist, with the other I clasped the back of his neck and pulled him down into our second kiss. This time I was the protagonist; my lips crushing Trip's, my tongue demanding, and receiving admittance to his mouth. We broke apart panting, and I twined my fingers in Trip's hair, pulling his head back slightly so that I could look into those wonderful blue eyes.

'All right? Oh, Trip, if only you knew how often I've longed for this. For you in my arms, in my mouth, kissing me, loving me...' My emotions threatened to overwhelm me, so I wrapped both my arms round Trip's waist hugging him to me, my head against his shoulder.

Trip rubbed his hands over my back; firm, comforting strokes that filled me with warmth and a sense of security. Then his hands moved further down, cupping my arse, gripping me tightly, forcing our bodies together.

I dropped my hands to his arse and shifted myself sideways, nudging his knees apart so I could get my leg between them. My erection was pressed against his leg and Trip's, obvious in his underwear, was pushing into my hip. We stayed like that for some time, gently grinding our pelvises together as we kissed again.

I was lost in a sea of sensual pleasure, too far gone to notice when Trip started to remove my uniform. Coming to my senses when his efforts to get my arms out of the sleeves meant he pulled my hands from his arse, I must have looked puzzled, maybe even said something, because he stopped kissing me long enough to murmur, 'Too many clothes, Malcolm. Just evenin' things up.' Then he bent his mouth to my neck and went back to work with his teeth and tongue.

We were on the bed; I had no recollection of getting there. I was flat on my back, hands pinned above my head, vulnerable. But it didn't matter because the person who had me pinned down was Trip. I trusted Trip, loved him, and had longed for this moment almost since our first meeting.

He was kneeling astride my legs. His free hand tugged at the hem of my blue tee-shirt, but it was trapped between my body and the bed. Letting go of my hands, he caught hold of the shirt on both sides, lifting me just enough to pull it off over my head. He sat back for a moment, his buttocks resting lightly on my knees; then he caught my eye and grinned. His tongue skimmed across his lips, moistening them, and he lowered his mouth to take hold of one of my nipples.

Trip suckled and nipped, first on one nipple, then the other, his fingers maintaining the stimulation when his mouth left off. For what seemed an eternity I lay back and let him, revelling in the sensation, then it occurred to me that I could join in too. I managed to divest him of his singlet. He was golden and warm compared to my pallid complexion. I ran my hands over his hard, toned torso. I have muscles, but I'm not muscular like Trip. He was so beautiful it took my breath away.

I let my fingers comb through the soft hair on his chest before finally catching hold of a hard fleshy nub. I had never touched another man's nipples before; that struck me as funny. We were kissing again and Trip, feeling my smile, asked what it was for.

When I told him he laughed softly and said, 'I'm betting you've never done this before either.' As he spoke he took hold of my hand and pressed it hard against his crotch. Then he laughed again at my gasp and groan. When he let go of my hand I left it where it was, clamped against his cock. Then it was his turn to gasp as I started to stroke him through the tight fabric of his underwear.

Trip moved out of my reach and my hand was suddenly lonely. I felt his hands on my shorts, manoeuvring them over my arse and cock, and I forgot my hand, and everything else. He knelt on the bed alongside me and let his eyes travel the length of my body; his pupils so dilated, I could see hardly any blue. He breathed out a sigh and wet his lips again.

'God, Malcolm, you're gorgeous. I've wanted this for so long-and now...' He moved, settling himself between my legs. 'And now...,' he repeated, almost reverently.

I was finding it difficult to breathe. My cock was standing at attention, twitching occasionally in anticipation of what was to come. The anticipation was exquisite; I couldn't believe anything could better it. Then it did.

Trip took my cock in his mouth. Slowly, a little at a time. First he lapped the pre-cum from the head, then he swirled his tongue round it as if it were an ice cream cone, then he fastened his mouth around it and slid down it's length.

I lifted my head to watch, marvelling at the sight of his head moving between my legs; blond hair and brunet together.

I had no idea how long this ecstasy lasted; mere seconds, or all eternity? All I knew was the pain when it was snatched from me as my consciousness was thrust unceremoniously back into my body; pain, and desperation as I fought to stay where I was—in Trip's arms, in his heart, in my dreams.

'My sodding, pathetic dreams,' Reed muttered savagely to himself. 'Trip doesn't love you, and is never bloody likely to. Your own lovesick mind's sad little wankfest, that's all it was. Just forget it, you stupid plonker, and get back to work.'

He was talking out loud, almost shouting at himself, as he paced the confines of his quarters; repeating his arguments, desperately trying to get the all too vivid images of his dreams-come-true out of his mind. Pausing, he caught sight of himself in the mirror; his strained, haggard visage, hair dishevelled by his own hands, the dark circles under his eyes. No way was anyone, least of all Phlox, going to believe there was nothing wrong with him.

'Oh, fucking hell, what the shit am I going to do?'

* * *

Tucker pushed away his half-eaten meal and settled back into his chair.

'Not hungry, Trip? Nothing wrong with the steak, I hope?'

Tucker grinned at the surprise in the captain's voice; it was a rare thing for the engineer to turn down food.

'Nah, Cap'n, steak's fine. Just full. Don't know what anyone else's wisps were into, but mine was kinda fixated on food, y'know?'

He was sharing a late meal in the captain's mess with Captain Archer and Sub-commander T'Pol, the Vulcan first officer. It had taken Tucker and his engineers some time to return command functions to the bridge and check over the engines and ship's systems thoroughly, but everything was back to normal now and Enterprise was proceeding on her course at warp 3.

'It would appear that all of the aliens were interested in exploring physical sensations,' T'Pol said. 'I believe Doctor Phlox is collecting the information for his report.'

'I bet!'

'Fortunately there don't seem to be any ill effects as a result of the wisp's interests,' the captain said, chuckling at Tucker's comment. 'Phlox says everyone has recovered well.'

'Except Malcolm,' Tucker said, pouring himself some iced tea.

'Malcolm? What's wrong with him?' Archer looked at him, concerned. 'Phlox didn't mention anything.'

'The doc seems to think it's nothing, but, I don't know. He's distracted, kinda like he's not all back yet,' he struggled to explain clearly the impression he'd gotten from his friend. 'I mean, he's all there, but...different. Distracted.'

'Malcolm's a very private person, Trip. Maybe he's just having difficulty coming to terms with his body being under an alien's control,' Archer suggested.

'Yeah.' Tucker brightened. 'An' we all know what physical sensation Malcolm's wisp was bent on exploring! Oh, don't worry, Cap'n,' he added, seeing the expression on Archer's face. 'I haven't told him what his body was up to while he was gone. Yet.'

'Perhaps Mr. Reed is disappointed to be back.' T'Pol looked at the two men over the rim of her water glass.

'Huh?' Tucker asked.

'According to the reports, crew members' experiences while their bodies were 'occupied' were all extremely pleasurable. Perhaps Mr. Reed was enjoying himself so much, he did not want to return.'

Tucker and Archer exchanged a look.

'That's certainly one theory,' Archer agreed.

'Probably winning one of those historical battles he's always reading about,' Tucker grinned. The captain raised an enquiring eyebrow, surprised. 'Tells me all about them while we're working together,' Tucker shrugged.

It was getting late; T'Pol rose and excused herself, but Tucker made no move to leave. He watched as Archer fetched a bottle from a cupboard and poured them both a shot of bourbon.

'Thanks.' Letting the smile fade from his face, Tucker took a sip of his drink, holding the smooth, golden liquid in his mouth for a moment, before swallowing with a little shudder of pleasure. 'Good stuff,' he commented.

'The occasion seemed to warrant it.' They sat in silence for a while until Archer spoke. 'What's up, Trip?'

Tucker stopped swirling his drink round the glass and looked at the captain, a puzzled expression on his face.

'You're sitting there just playing with a very good bourbon. You look like you've lost a dollar and found a dime. Something must be up. I know it's not the engines, so what is it?'

Tucker leaned back in his seat with a sigh. 'It's Malcolm,' he admitted.

'Ah!'

'What's that mean—ah?' He bristled at the captain's remark. 'No, don't tell me. Somethin's wrong , ya know. I don't care what Phlox says, he's not all right.'

'Are you sure you're not letting your feelings for him colour your judgement, Trip?'

Captain Archer was the only person Tucker had confided in about his feelings for Enterprise's English armoury officer, and only then because his friend of over nine years had guessed. It had helped, Tucker conceded, having someone to talk to, but it didn't change the fact that he was head over heels in love with someone who was less likely than a Vulcan to return his feelings.

'Hell, I don't know, Cap'n,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just Malcolm being Malcolm. But, y'know, I pay pretty close attention to Malcolm's moods,' he gave a mock glare at Archer's snort of laughter, and continued, 'an' I'm telling you, something's not right.'

'Give it a couple of days, Trip. Keep an eye on him,' he laughed again at the look Tucker directed at him and raised a hand as if in self-defence. 'I know I can count on you to do that! See how things develop. I'm betting it's just 'Malcolm being Malcolm', but if there's anything else, we can speak to Phlox about it.'

* * *

Reed sighed in relief as the armoury doors slid closed behind him. Finally he was alone. The last two days had been a nightmare.

The interview with Doctor Phlox yesterday morning had been unpleasant. Phlox kept pressing him for details about his experiences whilst his body was occupied by the wisp alien. In the end Reed had snapped at him to mind his own damn business. Phlox had just pursed his lips and looked at him with his 'you're not fooling me' expression, but had, in the end, agreed that Reed was fit for duty.

The problem is, he thought, that the doctor may be right; I'm not fooling him. He'd been pretty disorientated when Phlox had revived him after the alien attack. His memories were hazy at best, and he couldn't be sure that he hadn't said something to clue the doctor to what his consciousness had been up to.

Since leaving sickbay, it seemed that everywhere he went Commander Tucker was there, sometimes lurking in the background, but more often than not joining the armoury officer, eating meals with him, offering to help with whatever he was doing. Reed knew he'd been brusque to the point of rudeness on more than one occasion. At least then the commander gave up his attempts to be sociable and left; though the hurt look on his face and his general air of dejection was almost more than Reed could bear.

But it was better than the alternative, he told himself.

Yesterday afternoon in the armoury, Tucker had slipped at the bottom of the steps. Automatically Reed had reached out to catch him, grabbing hold of both arms, holding Tucker close while he regained his balance. Equally automatically, he had caught himself leaning in for a kiss—eyes closed, his body responding to the other man's nearness. Fortunately he had regained his senses before Tucker noticed; the thought of his friend's reaction had he not managed to collect himself in time, if he had actually kissed him, was too horrifying to contemplate.

Now, finally alone and reasonably reassured of remaining so for the rest of the day, since Commander Tucker was busy with the captain in engineering, he was free to concentrate his whole attention on his work. Removing the outer hatch from the Jeffries tube, he climbed in and made his way through the cluttered space to the chamber that housed the aft phase cannon.


	2. Chapter 2

Tucker gave it a couple of days and all that did was confirm his opinion that all was not well with Lieutenant Reed.

He'd made it a point to spend as much time as possible in the armoury officer's company. Yesterday that hadn't been difficult. They were overhauling the power systems to the phase cannons and the two of them worked together most of the day, at first in engineering rerouting the power grid, and later in the armoury checking and swapping relays.

Since they had been together, he could hardly claim that Reed was avoiding him, but he definitely seemed uncomfortable in the commander's presence. Usually they chatted easily as they worked, when they weren't arguing that was, but yesterday Reed was taciturn at best and conversation had been restricted to what was essential for the job in hand.

This morning Reed was on the bridge and Tucker found himself some work that could just as easily be done at his station there as in engineering. He'd ignored the captain's knowing look when he entered the bridge and settled himself at his console, behind the tactical station. His greeting to the armoury officer as he passed him and Reed's curt response were the only words they'd exchanged all morning.

At lunch the lieutenant was sitting with Ensigns Mayweather and Sato when Tucker entered the mess hall. When Tucker joined them Reed almost immediately made an excuse to leave, in spite of not having touched his dessert.

Tucker questioned the ensigns, asking if they'd noticed anything different or unusual about the lieutenant. They said not. Except Mayweather mentioned that Reed had refused to tell them anything about what he was doing while his body was possessed by the wisp; he'd been quite sharp about it, come close to snapping at the helmsman. That counted as unusual behaviour in Tucker's book, since Reed and Mayweather were good friends from before their postings to Enterprise.

Reed's reluctance to tell the ensigns about his out-of-body experiences struck a chord in Tucker's mind. He remembered how short the lieutenant had been with him on their walk from sickbay. This whole change in his friend had to have something to do with what he was doing while the wisp was in his body; but how to find out what that was? Reed wasn't talking. The only other person Tucker could think of who might be able to help was Phlox; maybe the doctor had noticed something when he revived Reed. Making his excuses to the two ensigns, Tucker left the mess hall and headed to sickbay.

When he arrived Phlox was busy, treating a science crewman for some minor injury to her hand. Tucker wandered around the room waiting for the doctor to finish.

'Can I help you, Commander?' Phlox asked as he ran a scanner over the crewman's fingers.

'Jus' wanted to ask you about something, doc,' he said, hitching himself up onto the edge of a biobed.

'Hmmm?' Phlox beamed at him, head tilted to one side, eyebrows raised.

'It's kinda private,' Tucker said, taking in the glance the crewman shot in his direction. Great, he thought, now she probably thinks I've got something catching. How long 'til that gets spread round the ship?

'There you are, Ms. Ride. Next time you're assisting in hydroponics, try and keep your fingers away from the blisterwort. It's clearly a well-named plant.'

The crewman thanked him, gave Tucker a quick smile, and left.

'Now, Mr. Tucker, what can I do for you, eh?'

'I wanted to ask you about Malcolm,' he began.

'Ah!'

'Why do people keep doing that?' Phlox looked at him questioningly. 'The 'ah' thing whenever I mention Malcolm. Cap'n does it too.'

'I assure you, Commander, I have no ulterior motive. I was merely acknowledging your reason for being here.'

'Oh, right. Well, about Malcolm anyway. I know you think there's nothing wrong with him, but I know him pretty well, and this last couple of days, I'm tellin' you, he's been acting funny.'

'In what way has Lieutenant Reed 'acting funny'?'

'He's not talking to me, for one thing.'

'That's hardly a medical problem, Commander,' Phlox pointed out mildly.

'I know that, but it's the _way_ he's not talking to me.' He scrubbed a hand across his face. 'Look, I'm not exactly making myself clear here, Doc, but it's difficult to describe. There's just something different about him, something I can't put m'finger on. It's got something to do with those wisp aliens, I'm sure of it. I just wondered if maybe you'd noticed anything. I mean, he looked pretty disoriented when you revived him; no one else was affected like that. It must mean something,' he finished, almost pleading with the doctor.

'Mm,' Phlox pondered a moment before continuing, 'Mr. Reed's disorientation on being revived may well be symptomatic of a problem.' He held up a hand, forestalling Tucker's interruption. 'But there's nothing wrong with him, medically speaking.'

'What're you saying here, doc; he's got some sorta mental problem?'

'No, not at all, Commander. Let me put it another way. When your body was 'occupied', you enjoyed your mind's experiences, did you not?' 'Are you saying Malcolm didn't? Or, wait a minute-you're saying what T'Pol did?' At Phlox's perplexed look, he elaborated. 'She said that maybe Malcolm had enjoyed himself so much he didn' want to come back. Is that what you're saying?'

Instead of answering his question, Phlox asked one of his own.

'Do you have any idea what the lieutenant's mind was doing while his body was 'occupied', Commander?'

'No, he won't say, either to me or Travis and Hoshi. Why? Do you know?'

'Mr. Reed has said nothing to me on the subject. However something he did say when he was revived might suggest that the Sub-commander is correct in her assessment.'

'What?'

'I can't tell you that, Commander. You'll have to ask Mr. Reed.'

Phlox beamed at him as if he'd just solved all of Tucker's problems

'But Malcolm won't talk to me!' Tucker said, exasperated. 'That's the whole problem.'

'I'm afraid I can't help you there, Commander. But I'm sure if you think about it you can find a way to persuade Mr. Reed to confide in you.'

Whatever Tucker was about to say next was cut off by the comm.

'Archer to Tucker.'

Striding across the room Tucker took out his frustration on the comm panel, hitting the button hard.

'Tucker here.'

'You planning on joining me in engineering any time soon, Trip?'

'Damn. Sorry, Cap'n, I got sidetracked. I'm on my way. Tucker out.'

'Thanks, Doc, you've been very-helpful.'

Ignoring the sarcasm in Tucker's tone, Phlox beamed at him yet again, 'Talk to him, Commander, talk to him.'

* * *

By the time Tucker was finished with the captain it was nearly the end of his shift. Reed was on an earlier, overlapping, shift that should have finished a couple of hours ago, but Tucker was willing to bet the armoury officer was still at work. Slipping into his office, he ran a search on the computer; as he expected, the lieutenant was still in the armoury.

He fidgeted around the office for a while, rearranging the pile of padds on his desk, trying to figure out how to approach Malcolm. It was only Lieutenant Hess, his second-in-command, needing to use the office and obviously wondering what her superior was up to, that eventually drove him out. Still with no clear idea of what he was going to say when he got there, he made his way to the armoury.

When he did get there, there was no sign of Malcolm. Ensign Tanner, one of Tucker's engineering team on part-time attachment to tactical, was the only person in sight.

'Col,' he greeted the ensign. 'Any idea where Lieutenant Reed is?'

'Working on the aft phase cannon, sir. He's down in the housing.' Tanner nodded to an open Jeffries tube. 'Been there most of the afternoon, I think. The targeting scanner is fried; McFarland said the lieutenant is stripping and rebuilding it.'

Nodding his thanks, Tucker crossed the room and pulled himself into the Jeffries tube. He scrambled through the mass of pipework and ducts that crisscrossed the tube and climbed down the ladder that led to the cannon port.

Arriving at the bottom of the ladder, he was treated to the sight of Malcolm astride the cannon, lying flat against its casing, holding on with his thighs, his back towards Tucker, as he worked on the connection to the deployment arm. Tucker's mouth went dry and he sucked in a breath; he could feel an inconvenient stirring in his groin as he stood for a minute or two, enjoying the view.

He wasn't aware of making a sound, but suddenly Malcolm's head turned towards him. Surprised, the armoury officer jumped and the pliers which had been lying on the cannon next to his hand, slipped to the floor.

'Shit!'

Tucker wasn't sure if it was the dropped pliers or his presence that warranted the expletive but his heart fell as he saw the closed, unfriendly expression settle on the other man's face.

'Sorry, Malcolm. Didn't mean to startle you. Just came to see if you needed a hand.'

'No. Thank you, sir. I can manage.' Reed slid off the cannon and retrieved the pliers.

Tucker swallowed, not sure whether he was glad to have the distraction of Malcolm straddling the cannon removed or not; on balance he thought it was probably for the best. He watched as Malcolm moved to the far side of the cannon and busied himself, presumably hoping to be left alone.

Well, tough, he thought. I've not come this far to chicken out now. You're going to tell me what the problem is, whether you like it or not.

'Was there something else you wanted, Commander?'

He looked up to find Malcolm watching him over the top of the cannon arm.

'Yeah there is, Lieutenant.' Tucker moved so he was standing in the entrance to the cannon port, blocking the only escape route. 'I want to know what the heck is up with you.' Waving his hand to silence the protest he could see forming, he ploughed on. 'Ever since those aliens took over our bodies you've been a pain in the ass. Obviously somethin' happened while you were gone that upset you. I know ya don't like talking about your feelings an' things, Malcolm, but I'm fed up t' the back teeth with this cold shoulder treatment I'm getting. So you're not leaving here until you tell me just what your problem is.'

'And just how do you propose to make me do that, sir?' The challenge was clear in the grey eyes as Reed, unconsciously, Tucker hoped, shifted into a combat stance.

'Don't pull that shit on me, Malcolm. I thought we were friends. Friends care about each other. I care about you.' He paused as a different expression flickered briefly in the lieutenant's eyes, then the challenge was back as Reed took a step towards him.

'Friends don't poke their noses where they're not wanted. Sir!'

'And cut out that 'sir' crap, too. Yer not hiding behind rank on this.' Tucker was shouting now, in sharp contrast to Reed's icy coldness, and breathing heavily, unaware of his tightly clenched fists. 'You're going to tell me what's wrong with you, if I have to beat it out of you.'

'Oh, I wouldn't recommend you trying that, Commander.'

It was the smirk that did it, and the slighter man's air of superiority; his obvious confidence in his ability to beat the shit out of Tucker should the need arise. Without stopping to think Tucker threw a punch. He almost caught Reed unawares, almost. At the last moment Reed blocked and Tucker's fist skimmed the shorter man's shoulder.

Tucker was mortified that he'd let Malcolm goad him into a fight, ashamed and embarrassed. But before he could even begin to apologise, he found himself pinned against the bulkhead, his face against the cold metal and his right arm twisted painfully up his back.

'Stupid, Commander,' Reed hissed in his ear. 'Stupid and slipshod. Obviously you haven't been paying attention during combat training.'

'Great! Just what I need right now, a self-defence lesson,' he snapped back, furious with both Malcolm and himself.

'So it would seem,' the lieutenant continued. 'Lesson number one: leave me alone.' The voice was quiet and controlled but Tucker could feel the other man's body trembling as it pressed against his back.

Just as suddenly as he'd been caught, he was released; pushed into the small chamber as Reed headed out towards the ladder.

Lunging after the smaller man, Tucker made a grab for his arm. 'We ain't finished here, lieutenant,' he snarled. 'Don't you dare walk out on me.'

'Let go of me!' He tried to drag his arm free, but Tucker hung on tight.

There wasn't really room to manoeuvre in the confined space. In trying to jerk his arm out of the engineer's grasp Reed succeeded only in pulling him closer. Tucker's foot snagged on the lip of the hatch and he lost his balance, crashing into the smaller man; they both ended up in a heap on the floor, Tucker on top, still gripping Reed's arm.

'Damn,' Tucker panted, capturing the lieutenant's other arm while he was still winded from having Tucker land on top of him. 'What the fuck is the matter with you, Malcolm?' He shook the arms he was gripping, trying to get through to the man; trying at the same time to ignore the effect on his own body of lying on top of him. 'I know this's gotta be about those aliens, so what'n hell were you doing while you were gone that you're too scared to tell me about?'

'You want to know?' Malcolm shouted at him, shaking with fury. 'You really want to know? I was fucking you! That's what I was doing.' He drew in a shuddering breath, choking back a sob and turned his face away from Tucker's astonished stare. 'I was fucking you, Trip,' he said, quietly this time. 'Now let me get up and get out of here, please.'

'No.'

'Commander...'

'Look at me, Malcolm.'

'I understand that you'll want to lodge a complaint, Commander. I'll go straight to the captain, but please, let me go.'

'Not until you look at me.'

Malcolm turned his head to face him. A blush stained his skin where it stretched taut over those impossibly high cheekbones; his eyes glistened with unshed tears and an emotion Tucker wasn't sure he was identifying correctly shone briefly from their depths before Malcolm dropped his gaze.

'I'm sorry, Trip,' he said, voice barely above a whisper. 'I never meant to tell you. I suppose you'll hate me now. I can't say I blame you. Let me get up now, please?'

Instead of releasing him Trip started talking.

'When I was gone, each time I was doin' things I liked, things I'd enjoyed in the past. But I know some of the others, they did things they wanted to, things they'd dreamed about that they wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. I haven't talked to anyone yet who was doing something they didn't enjoy.' Malcolm's blush deepened and he turned his head away again. 'So, what you were doin', Malcolm, you were enjoying it, right?' He licked his lips nervously. 'Please, Malcolm, it's important. I need to know.'

There was a murmured response, too quiet for Tucker to make out.

'Malcolm.' He gave the other man's arms another shake, then released them, moving to kneel alongside him. 'Please, Malcolm, it's important.'

Reed pulled himself into a sitting position and let his head drop forward until it was buried in his hands.

'Yes. I enjoyed it,' he said.

'Why?'

'What?' He was surprised into looking at Trip.

'Why did you enjoy it? I mean, was it...do you. Shit. What I'm trying to say, Malcolm-if you had the chance, in real life I mean, would you...'

'Would I fu-make love to you?' Malcolm was looking at him now, an unreadable expression in his eyes. 'Yes, Trip, I would.'

Tucker let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He met and held Malcolm's gaze. 'Me too,' he said, feeling suddenly shy. 'Me too.'

'Trip? Are you saying that you have feelings for me?' Confusion, vulnerability and hope intermingled in Malcolm's expression and in his voice.

'Yeah. I tried not to. You're always getting hurt, putting yourself in danger for the ship an' all, because of your job. I didn't want to fall for someone who might get taken from me. Then when you and the cap'n nearly got hung on that planet-I was so scared, Malcolm. Thought I'd lost you both; m' two best friends and...and the man I love. I knew then I couldn't fight it.'

'That was months ago. Why didn't you say something?'

'Didn't know how you'd react, if you even liked men. That time in the shuttlepod-it was only girls you wrote to. I thought if I said something and you weren't that way, y'know-I thought you might shut me out. I didn't want for us not to be friends any more.'

'So you tried not to feel for me?'

'Love you. I love you, Malcolm. If I'm tellin' I might as well tell the truth, whatever the consequences.'

Malcolm looked at him, looked away, looked back again, then sank his head in his hands with a groan.

'What? What's the matter?' Tucker felt his panic rising; did Malcolm not want him; had he ruined everything? 'Malcolm, talk to me.'

'All that time,' Malcolm said into his hands. 'All those weeks, months. Do you know how hard it's been? Have you any idea just how much I've ached to do this?'

And suddenly Malcolm was on his knees in front of Trip, reaching out and stroking his face, sliding one hand to the nape of his neck and pulling him forward into a punishing, lip-crushing kiss.

Relief flooded Tucker and he sagged against the shorter man, wrapping his arms around Malcolm's waist, parting bruised lips to kiss him back.

They stayed kneeling on the floor by the cannon port for some time, kissing, touching-just being together. Eventually Reed pulled back far enough that he could look into Tucker's eyes.

'What are we going to do now, Trip?' he asked.

'Well, I don't know about you, darlin', but now I know how you feel, that you want me too, I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago.' He lowered his lips to the other man's again, this time for a gentle, teasing kiss. Feeling the tension in Reed's body, he broke off the kiss and ran his hands over the tightly knotted shoulders. 'Unless you don't want me to?'

'No, love, it's not that. But regulations, the captain...'

'The cap'n already knows, that I love you anyway. When he finds out you love me back, he'll be pleased for us, that's all. And regulations? To hell with 'em. We're not hurting anyone, we do our jobs, the cap'n don't mind. That's all that matters.'

'But...'

Trip kissed him again. 'If problems happen, we'll work through them-together. Stop worrying, Malcolm. That's an order.'

'If you say so. Sir' There was amusement in Reed's voice and eyes.

Tucker relaxed and ran his hands down Reed's back to settle on his hips.

'Of course, that's all in the future,' he grinned. 'Long term. There is somethin' I'd like to do short term, right now, if you're interested.'

'What's that?' Malcolm's breath was hot and moist against his neck as he nuzzled and licked his way along Tucker's jaw.

'When I came down here, you were straddlin' that phase cannon like you were trying to make love to the thing. How's about you and me get back up there and show it how it's really done.'

'The arm wouldn't take the weight,' Malcolm murmured, between nibbles on one of Trip's earlobes.

'I'm willing to take the risk if you are, darlin'. You know that, don't ya? I'd risk anything for you.'

Then Malcolm's lips were on his again, and all conversation stopped.


End file.
